Blood Born
by Cold War Queer
Summary: Devastation and disease. The infection spread. Few survived the initial outbreak. Fewer survived the coming months. Alfred was one of the lucky ones. He got lucky a lot of the time. Zombie AU. RusAme. M for gore and romantic thingy dings


**Hello, folks! This story here will include gore, psychological analysis, suspension and character study. I hope you like it! This is just the beginning.**

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As cheesy as the movies were, they were a great example of what _not_ to do during the zombie apocalypse.

Really, one would never think the world was ending. While devoid of life, the morning was like any other. Alfred figured that, weather permitting, he could head onto the next city.

Unlike in the movies there were no cars strewn across the roads. Maybe one or two here and there, but the infection had ravaged the world so quickly that it hadn't been very prudent to get in your car. Everyone had thought taking their car would be too crowded anyway, so only a handful had. Of course, that also didn't leave many cars that were drivable with a decent amount of gas in them, either.

Backpack strapped to his back, baseball bat in hand, Alfred soldiered on across the fields, occasionally stopping by to pick up a town map at the gas stations at the edges of towns. Maps were good to have, especially since they didn't take up much space in his bag. That was a bonus.

Alfred preferred staying on the outskirts of town, only venturing in during the day to stock up on supplies and items he deemed capable of further use. There were a lot of things he picked up. Mostly ammo, duct tape, practical items that he could be used to fight the hordes.

He thought he might look funny, with several layers of duct take over his arms, legs and torso, Though he didn't know who might look at him. He hadn't seen another living soul for weeks. But it was a good idea. The infected used to be human. Their mindless hunger for flesh aside, they still had human teeth, and Alfred had yet to meet a human who could tear through a couple layers of duct tape over clothing.

Despite their activity during the late hours, Alfred had noticed the horde didn't see particularly well in the dark. Of course, one would have to be a feline to see in the pitch dark. Alfred had a tiny tent he would pitch if he found himself out in the open for the night. What little infected did come his way didn't seem to bother him so long as he didn't make noise or suspicious lights from inside the tent. Maybe stumble over the edge of the tent, but nothing dangerous.

Who was he kidding, his entire existence was dangerous.

It was early in the morning, before it got hot, when he was out into the town. It wasn't a bit city, but it wasn't quite quaint. He was traipsing, as stealthy as possible, through the streets, ducking down alleyways every now and then to avoid the straggling daytime infected.

He checked the map. The town should be big enough to have some sort of big box mart that he could stow away in and get some supplies. Odds were that it would have at least _some_ supplies for him. The medium sized towns were usually gold mines. Everyone ransacked the cities, then headed out to the country towns. Medium sized towns were usually ghost towns- or nests for hordes. Towns were usually breeding grounds for the infection- it spread fast.

Alfred trucked up a large hill and used the vantage point to map out the tacky strip malls and big clothing stores. Not that he needed anymore clothing. If he wanted to travel light and fast then he would have to forego most clothing. Long sleeved, tight fitting shirts, usually something like sweat pants, though less baggy and easy shoes to run in. As it was he already had a heavy enough backpack.

He glanced over to a big warehouse, the familiar label of a neighborhood Costco peeking up behind one of the hills. He gauged the distance and kept his eye out for any infected, trying to find the best route to the shutter doors. If they were unlocked the warehouse would be an ideal place to hide out for a few days, maybe even long term. Food, clothes, appliances and their own electrical generators? Even after three months of infection and disease all that needed was a little TLC.

Alfred carefully skidded down the grassy hill, staying down low. There were a couple stragglers across the street. He hadn't caught their attention, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He ducked over behind a dumpster, crouching as he realized one of the infected was looking towards him. Had he made any noise? He was sure he hadn't been silent, but he hadn't knocked anything over, or- shit, it was coming closer.

Frantically looking about, Alfred spotted a twisted, but usable, ladder. It would attract attention, but the infected could rarely climb. Maybe the smart ones, if they were lucky. He'd seen it, but he was hoping none of them were around.

He didn't wait for it to come any closer. He clambered up on top of the dumpster and made a jump for the gnarled, broken bottom of the ladder. Six feet up, what could hurt? He would just keep doing it until he got it.

He made the jump, but he had to pull himself up. His antics were bringing more attention. Another infected had spotted him and- a vicious creaking sound distracted his train of thought. And then a mechanical groan.

Glancing up, Alfred saw one of the screws bolting the ladder to the roof was rattling. He pulled himself up, feeling the ladder wobble. He was playing a dangerous game.

A more organic groan brought him back to reality.

There were four zed beneath him. He scurried up the ladder, an admittedly loud exclamation escaping him as the bolt came loose, the ladder careening to the side. He jumped up and gripped the edge of the roof, pushing himself up with the last of the ladder. Winded, he took a chance to look down.

Fuck.

One of the infected had used the other three as a staircase, managing to grasp at the ladder.

Even if it was unlikely it had the capability to make it to the top, Alfred wasn't taking any chances. He shook the ladder, until the bolt started coming loose. With all his strength, it came off with a creak, and the ladder went plummeting to the ground.

Ducking next to the air shaft, Alfred took a few moments to catch his breath. He could take the stairs down out of whatever building he was on top of and head to the Costco. He could see it from here, and while there was a small group go infected near it, if he could slip into the shutter doors then he could be safe. He could make it. He _would_ make it.

Down a couple flights of steps and out the back door, Alfred ducked around until he was just one parking lot away from his destination. Just one free run, and then he could keep himself safe in the armored, concrete walls of the Costco. Even if there were some infected in there he could easily clear them out.

He dashed. He didn't look back. After looking both ways, he saw his opening and he took it.

He came to a stop in front of the big shutter doors. They were closed, both of them. And not only were they closed but they were _chained_.

Alfred cursed and rattled the chains, shaking them to see if they might come undone. He should have been prepared for this. He shouldn't have been so careless. He had been too preoccupied by the dream of having packaged food after so long of going without. He slammed against the doors and cursed, loud.

The loud shuffling was what brought his attention.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Alfred cursed as he ran. A sizable group of infected were heading towards him. He came around the corner of the building and noticed a barrier of shopping carts in front of a door- and it wasn't chained closed.

He took his chances. odds were either way, in or out he was faster at jumping carts than the horde was. He climbed up into one and started hopping carts. More than once he nearly went face first into the next cart, but he finally jumped in front of the door. When he checked over his shoulder he saw the infected coming towards him, although rather slowly. Most were just trying to climb on top of the carts while the smart ones were pushing them out of the way.

He opened the door and managed to wedge himself inside, slamming the door shut. He ran down the hall, glancing around to make sure there were no infected in the adjacent rooms. He pulled his bat out and slowly shifted through the halls. He figured he was somewhere in the storage house, because the room at the end of the hallway was chocked full of crates and machinery. This wasn't boding well with him.

The door leading to the main store was chained. Typical. He was starting to think this place was a stronghold.

He noticed a ventilation shaft and grinned, tucking his bat away as he went to yank the screen off. He wedged himself in and wiggled about until he could nudge his way up, finally pulling himself up into the vents. It was harder than it looked, but at least no zombies would be finding him here. Unless this was L4D style zombies. Which he knew they weren't.

He stopped in front of a screen and pulled a flathead screwdriver out, yanking up all the screws. He caught the screen before it could fall, and glanced down into the store. It was… Lit. Everything was bright.

He checked for a landing place- considering he was higher than he could ever jump even at his luckiest- and carefully landed down onto one of the crates stacked all the way up to the ceiling. He shimmied down the structure, carefully landing on the concrete floor. He pulled his bat out and went further into the corner of the store, where the light was centered.

There were plenty of lights all around the store, though only a select few of the ones on the ceiling were on. He headed towards those, figuring if there was anyone in the building it would be over there.

He saw something hunched up in the main hallway and held his bat at the ready, just in case.

When he approached it, he nudged it back, finding a blowup doll in place instead. As he lowered his bat he felt the muzzle of something pressing against the base of his skull.


End file.
